


The Masking of Pain

by lacewingss



Series: Inquisitor Nethra Lavellan [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Trespasser DLC, Two Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:17:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewingss/pseuds/lacewingss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years have passed since the Breach was closed, but things are far from settled. Nethra Lavellen suffers an episode of extreme pain due to the anchor attached to her hand, and Cullen struggles to find a way he can comfort and help her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Masking of Pain

The audience chamber was still and stuffy during mid-summer. The high windows offered little in the way of a breeze, and what managed to make it down to the floor was humid and stale. Cullen could feel the wet line of sweat as it dripped down his neck and headed towards his back, doing nothing to cool his skin.

It was difficult to focus in such conditions, but he tried his best. Seated at a table facing the small audience of nobles and military leaders, the Inquisitor on his left and Josephine on his right, he knew he had best listen to what was being discussed as closely as he was able.

He found his mind wandering despite himself. The talk of disrupted trade and feuding lords droned on in the background, a constant buzz broken by the occasional musical tones of his wife as she did her best to placate everyone present. The years following Coryeheus's defeat had been far from easy, but hearing Nethra speak from beside him, safe and sound and no longer in constant mortal peril, was a blessing he was still uncertain wasn't a dream. If the price to pay for that blessing was spending hours in meetings filled with petty squabbles he would gladly pay and endure.

There was a sudden movement to his left and he looked over in time to see Nethra move her hand from its resting place on the table to her lap. The dim glow of green that surrounded it pulsed, magic crackling soft enough that he could only just make it out. She cradled her left hand with her right, pulling it close to her in what appeared to be an effort to hide the light.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, worry evident in his expression.

Nethra titled her head to make eye contact with him and gave a slight smile. “Mhmm. Pay attention to this, Commander,” she teased, her voice a matching whisper that nonetheless drew an annoyed glare from Josephine. Nethra was quick to look away and refocus on her duties, but Cullen kept his eyes on her for a moment longer, studying her face.

He could tell she was in pain beneath her calm facade. He not spent the last two years by her side only to be unaware of what she tried to hide. It was in her eyes – the slight narrowing of her lids, the quick twitch of the upturned corners. Though she might have fooled every other person in the room Cullen knew her better than to imagine all was well.

There was nothing he could do about it at the moment, though, so he turned back to the conversation in the chamber and his daydreams about cooler weather.

An elderly lord was attempting to gain the Inquisition's support when Nethra inhaled sharply and twisted in her seat. Cullen instantly forgot about the man speaking across the room and looked at Nethra, who was doing her best not to squirm too noticeably. Her face had gone ashen, the freckles standing out like stars in the sky, a thin sheen of sweat coating her skin that had nothing to do with the summer heat. She still held her left hand in her lap, only now it was balled into a fist so tight he could see the veins of her wrist popping out.

It was then that he noticed the blood seeping from within her clenched fist. A scarlet line, wet and glistening, ran from her palm down her wrist to end dripping into the fabric of her tunic. She must have been digging her nails into her palm so deep she had broken the skin, all the while remaining silent and composed.

Alarmed, Cullen snapped his attention back to her face, saw her jaw clenched and her eyes staring straight ahead. The pain was worse than he first thought, and she was doing everything she could to hide it.

“Nethra...” he tried again, discretely placing his hand on her thigh under the table to get her attention. He could not sit by and watch her struggle with what pain she was feeling – she needn't stay in the meeting and suffer, and he was would tell her that even if he had to listen to Josephine's lectures about disrupting meetings.

With a strained turn of her head, Nethra glared at Cullen. “Not. Now.” She spoke through clenched teeth, a harsh hiss of words. She was looking at him with the stern expression she saved for Inquisition business, and not the soft compassion he was accustomed to. Cullen cursed her stubbornness. Nethra had made up her mind to attend this meeting, as was her responsibility, and now nothing was going to stop her from finishing it, not even the rightful concern of her husband.

For the rest of the meeting Cullen did not even make an attempt to hide his distraction. He kept a close eye on Nethra, his heart aching in his chest when she would stiffen and hold her breath, his stomach twisting in knots when she closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and was simply still. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, to sweep her out of her chair and rush her to a healer, damn the audience. It was a struggle to find the line where the duties of a husband superseded the duties of a commander.

The meeting ended at last, and for once Nethra did not linger to speak with those in attendance. She made right for the door leading to a side hallway without so much as a nod in Josephine's direction, her quick pace crossing the distance before anyone could object. This was not like her at all, and Cullen was too surprised to jump from his seat when she did. He had to push himself up and nearly sprint to the door to catch her in time to leave the chamber with her.

The instant they were alone in the corridor Nethra backed into the wall, clutching at her hand in agony. She slumped to the floor, doubled over and shaking with pain. The noises she made were not screams, as Cullen would have imagined from someone in such a state, but whimpers and soft cries broken by rasping intakes of breath as she struggled not to cry out.

“Nethra!” He rushed to her side, sliding to his knees on the floor and taking hold of her shoulder to help keep her still. “What is it? What's wrong?” Though it was obvious what was wrong, Cullen couldn't think of anything but to ask. His head swam as she looked at Nethra in more pain than he had seen her in for two years. There were tears streaming down her cheeks now, escaping her tightly shut eyes.

“...hand.” She managed, pulling it tight against her breast as it crackled and hissed with magic, the green aura expanding and retracting with her heartbeat. Cullen could feel the icy chill radiating from it, like stone in the winter. He reached out a hand to touch it, to hold it in his and do his best to will the pain away but Nethra jerked away, unwilling to let him near it.

“Should I go get the healer? Vivienne maybe?” He asked, panic edging it's way into his voice.

This was not the first time the mark on her hand had troubled her in recent months, though it was by far the worst. Each time it happened Cullen asked the same thing – should the healers or mages take a look at it? And each time Nethra's answer was the same: there was no point. The magic of the anchor was foreign to them all, and none had any remedies or solutions to the pain it caused. It was one of the most frustrating situations Cullen had ever faced. He could do nothing but look on while the love of his life writhed in pain, or woke up in the middle of the night with the ghost of a scream on her lips, hugging herself in agony.

“Maker damn it! Why is there nothing I can do to help you?” He yelled into the corridor, his own terror and frustration surfacing. He was to help her, to protect her as she helped and protected him. _They were a team_ and right now he felt as useless as he did when he was withdrawing from lyrium.

Next to him Nethra was drawing shallow steady breaths. Her grip on her hand had not loosened, but she had stopped shaking, had opened her eyes to look up at him and though they still shone with tears, she was no longer fighting back sobs. “It's al-alright. I'm fine now. It's passing.”

“No, no, you are _not_ ok! That mark is torturing you! I am not going to stand around and watch you pretend it's not.” Cullen growled, more forceful than intended. It was typical of Nethra to pass off her pain as nothing to worry over, but she had to know that she could do nothing that would stop him from worrying over her. He was not going to let her drown in this without a fight. “You can hide your pain from everyone else in Thedas but damn it Neth, you're not going to hide if from me.”

“I'm not trying to hide anything from you! I'm trying to _forget about it.”_ Nethra shot back, her voice strained. “It fucking hurts, Cullen. It hurts more every day and I don't know how to stop it!”

She looked small then, huddled into herself on the floor, her face tear streaked and pale. Her large eyes were wide, fear dancing and spiraling in the greens and browns of her iris's. Nethra tried so hard to always be the stone in which the world could lean on, himself included, but times like this, when she shed the Inquisitor from herself so fully, were the times he knew she needed comfort more than anyone else he knew.

He moved to put his arms around her, to gather her up in his embrace. At once she melted into him, taking solace in the comfort of his love. “I know it hurts, love, I know it does.” He spoke softly into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “It'll be ok. We'll figure something out.”

They remained there for some time, holding on to each other, lost in their own thoughts and fears but comforted by the mere presence of the other. Eventually Nethra's breathing calmed and the color returned to her cheeks. She pushed herself slightly away from Cullen and when he looked into her eyes he was relieved to see them clear and dry. “Yes, you're right. I know. We'll fix this. I just – it was really bad this time. I should have left.”

“Yes, you should have.” Cullen was already reprimanding himself on doing nothing back in the audience chamber. He had seen the state she was in. He should have acted. He wouldn't make that mistake again. “I should have taken you out of there – next time I will. Even if you give me that look.”

“What look do you mean?” Nethra teased and he knew then that the episode had passed, that she was quickly returning to herself.

“You know what I mean, Inquisitor.”

“Thank you, vehnan. I'll count on you for that. I'll need it.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for a sweet kiss before untangling herself and standing up. “Back to work? Fairbanks sent over-”

“Oh, no. You're not doing any more work today. You're going up to our chambers and resting.” He stood to join her, slipping his arm around her slim waist.

“I am? On whose orders?” Nethra in turn placed her arm around him, the slight pressure reassuring as her fingers drummed on his clothes.

“On your loving husband's.”

“Well, I better humor him, hadn't I? Let me just go get my papers...”

“Ah, no, that's not resting.” Cullen gently steered her away from the closed door and down the hall in the opposite direction. “Come on, off we go.”

Nethra offered up no resistance. She leaned on him as they walked, comfortable in the silence. When they reached the stairs leading to their chambers Cullen stopped and looked down at his wife, unable to quell his worry for the day without one more reassurance. “How's your hand now?”

“Creators take my hand. I'm trying to forget it, remember?” Nethra waved it in front of her and Cullen saw that it was now back to normal, the green glow having disappeared until next time “It's not bad anymore.”

“Well, if you're really ok...”

“Better than ok, now. Thank you for watching out for me Cullen.”

He brought his hand to her cheek, held it in his palm as he looked at her and _maker she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen._ How he was so lucky to still have her, to still be able to look at her and see the love he felt mirrored in her eyes was a mystery. “Of course. I will _always_ look out for you. You know that.”

“I know,” Nethra said as she pressed up to her toes and kissed him, lingering and slow.


End file.
